


ambiguous hand gestures

by Anonymous



Category: The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Established Relationship, Human forms, Intersex Character, M/M, because he's a sub. thank you ill be here all week, do i even need to tag this you're either going to read my spongebob porn or not, hey why does squidward live at the bottom of the ocean?, squidwards hornyness finally overcomes his self-hatred and he gets laid, uh huh.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Squidward isn't really one to take initiative but he does his best





	ambiguous hand gestures

_Knock, knock...tap._

Squidward's knuckle barely meets the metal of Spongebob's front door as shame crawls up his spine, heating the back of his neck. On...on second thought, maybe this is a _bad idea_. He should just go home and ignore this whole--

“Hey, Squidward!”

“ _Gah!_ ”

He nearly leaps out of his skin, and twists around to find Spongebob standing next to him, holding a sack of groceries in his arms. “What are you knocking on my door for?” he asks, curiously, as if he hadn't just _snuck up_ on him.

“I--you were-- _augh_ ,” Squidward stammers, frustrated and gesturing at the door. Then he huffs, planting his hands on his hips. “I _thought_ you were _home_.”

Spongebob considers this for a moment, and then laughs, moving past him to open the door. “Whoops! Well, I'm home now!” He steps into his doorway, and then turns to look at him, eyes wide. “Did you need something?”

“ _No,_ ” he insists. And then tenses, realizing he accidentally told the truth--and that the truth is much worse than needing a _favor_.

“Oh,” says Spongebob. He waits. Squidward remains silent. “Well...why’re you here, then?” His tone is genuine and curious, as always.

Something settles in his grocery bag.

Squidward flushes.

“I just--I mean, I want--we should,” he attempts, trying not to shift nervously. He clenches his hands at his sides. “We haven't. Um.”

Spongebob continues waiting for the response patiently, as if Squidward isn't making a complete idiot out of himself.

“I just wanted to come over!” He manages to get out, finally.

Spongebob blinks. And then his face splits into a delighted grin, and he grabs Squidward's wrist, dragging him inside. “I'm so glad you're here! We're gonna have so much fun!”

Squidward’s heart skips a beat, whether from the affection or the implication of that statement, he's not sure. He lets himself be dragged into the kitchen and deposited next to a counter while Spongebob hurriedly puts his groceries away. “Do you know where I keep my spare key?”

He's too taken off guard by the question to give an irate response. “Yes?”

Spongebob smiles, tossing his empty grocery bag behind him. It drifts to the floor. “Then you don't have to knock! You can come in any time you want.”

Squidward blinks, surprised again--and Spongebob steps over, standing in front of him and taking both of his hands. He bounces up on the balls of his feet and back, sticking his chin up. “Sooooooo-o! What should we do?”

There's a part of him that knows this is Spongebob flirting with him. That he's all but asking him to lean down and kiss him, maybe pick him up and set him on the counter and--

The other 99 percent of him short circuits at this train of thought and leaves him standing there with his mouth agape.

“Uh.”

Spongebob peers up at him, and flutters his eyelashes innocently, tracing circles on the inside of Squidward’s palms.

Squid looks down at their hands, fingers twitching, the sensation pleasant but unfamiliar. It kind of...tingles. _Why is it only when_ he _touches me?_

“What’d you do today?”

He blinks, train of thought--as much as there was one--interrupted. “What?”

Spongebob giggles, leaning towards him. He doesn't seem to be moving, really, but somehow he keeps gravitating closer. “If you don't know what to do, we can just talk!”

“Oh.” The problem is, he does know what he wants to do. He's just having trouble crossing the gap between thought and action. The very large gap. The gaping, howling chasm. “...nothing.”

“ _Nothing?_ ” He's closer again. How is he doing that? “No wonder you wanted to come over, that sounds terrible!”

“Um.” _Kiss him. Just kiss him! He's right there, he's all but asking for it!_ “Yeah.” Squidward steps back and extracts his hands from Spongebob’s, panic rising up in his throat.

Spongebob tilts his head, curious, but lets him go. “Um,” he starts, unsure, “Well. Today _I_ woke up and fed Gary, and then noticed that he was almost out of food, so decided I needed to go to the store, but then I turned on the TV for a second and ended up watching it for a while, and...” he trails off, gaze drifting to the floor. He gnaws on his lip uncertainly. “I guess I...remembered eventually.” He looks back, eyes suddenly wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” goes Squidward, all the panic that had subsided while listening to Spongebob’s tale suddenly rushing forth at being acknowledged. “Wh--I--what? Why wouldn't I be okay?”

“I dun _no_ , you look like I'm making you nervous.”

Squidward flushes, clutching his hands at his sides. _You always make me nervous_ \--no. Absolutely not. “You're crowding me!” His stomach drops the moment he says it, and Spongebob steps back. Squidward groans, and drops his face into his hands. Why is he so _bad_ at this?

“Is that not what I was supposed to do?” Spongebob asks, worried.

“No,” says Squidward. Then, picking his head up, suddenly. “I mean--yes. I mean--it--no! You're fine. You're...” he takes a breath, as much as it pains him. “Fine.”

“Oh.”

Spongebob stares at him, and Squidward stares at the floor. He digs the heel of his foot into it, scowling. How did he fuck this up _this_ bad? Now Spongebob is upset, and thinks _he's_ upset, which is he kind of is, but not at _Spongebob_ , he just...

He sighs, trying to relax, and looks back at Sponge, at his searching eyes, wide with concern. All he wants is for Squidward to be happy and instead he's...like _this_.

Something grips Squid’s heart, and it feels suspiciously like affection. It's enough like affection, at least, for him to reach out tentatively and place his hand on Spongebob’s head, giving him a few awkward pats.

Sponge’s eyes light up at the touch, and the corner of Squidward's mouth pulls up in a smile. Yeah, okay, that's definitely affection, which really shouldn't be a surprise at this point--it’s just _weird_.

Squidward steps forward before he can second-guess himself, smoothing back a lock of Spongebob's hair that had been displaced by his placation. But that's as far as he gets. He stands there staring at his hand instead of making eye contact. His heart beats hard in his chest even as he tries to ignore his nerves. Even as--really--his nerves are so much quieter than he's used to ignoring.

Then Spongebob steps forward, smiling and raising his eyebrows in question. Or...challenge?

Squidward holds his breath, and leans down a few inches, hand sliding down to the side of Sponge’s face.

Spongebob places his hands on Squid’s chest and stands on his toes, putting them face to face. Even...nose to nose, a smile wrinkling the corners of Spongebob's eyes before Squid shuts his.

It's his move, but he's frozen again, hand growing warm against Spongebob's face, but then--

Spongebob tilts forward and kisses him, briefly, before retreating back those inches, touching noses and giggling.

Squidward pulls him back into the kiss.

The panicked cloud in his brain finally clears when Sponge melts into him--he _did_ it and _fuck_ he's so lonely and this is so nice and--Spongebob drapes his arms around his shoulders and Squidward wraps his around Sponge’s waist, holding him close as their lips slide together

Then Spongebob pulls away--sort of. He pulls back just enough to duck down and bury his face in Squidward's shoulder, his face warm even against Squid’s flushed skin. Squidward blinks.

Sponge nuzzles him, eyelashes brushing against his neck and raising goosebumps on his skin, a squeak of surprise or pleasure or something to that extent caught in his throat. Then Sponge lifts his head up and places a single kiss to the side of his neck before leaning back to look at him, finding a curl of hair at the back of his head to twirl a finger into.

Which should not be quite so--so... _sensual_ , but here he is.

“Do you think we shoouulld...” Spongebob says, excruciatingly slowly, as Squidward is hanging off his every word. “Maybe...take this to my bedroom?”

The _yes_ gets stuck in his throat, manifesting as a strangled squeak, but he's not about to let that stop him. He grabs Spongebob’s hand and leads them there himself, practically dragging him up the stairs--though he happily bounds along after him.

Sponge giggles as he steps in front of him to open the door, and hurries over to hop up on the overly tall bed. “Is _this_ what you meant when you said you wanted to come over?” he asks, grinning and swinging his feet back and forth. Thankfully, the motion is enough of a distraction from that question, which Squidward refuses to answer.

“At least take your _shoes_ off,” he snaps instead, crossing his arms tight against his chest, as if trying to hide his pounding heart.

Spongebob looks down at his feet, stopping them where they are, one kicked out in front of him.

He points it at Squidward.

Squid blinks, staring at it.

Sponge wiggles his ankle, and Squidward huffs, irritated, before marching over and untying his shoe. He pulls it off and drops it on the ground, then gives the same treatment to the other one when Spongebob offers it. Which is kind of...once again, he shouldn't feel so flustered taking his _shoes_ off, but somehow knowing that Sponge’s eyes are on him the whole time, and just the fact that, in a small way, he is kind of undressing him--

He drops the other one and then immediately turns around to take his own shoes off. Which he doesn’t _really_ need to turn around to do, but it serves the useful dual purpose of hiding his face, as well.

He unties them with deliberate and slow motions, trying to get his heart rate under control as he does, and lines them up next to each other against Spongebob's nightstand--right, left, right, left.

Then he turns around, and finds Spongebob sprawled out on the bed, knee in the air and chin propped up on his hand. He waggles his eyebrows.

There goes Squidward's heart rate. He freezes, throat dry and hands twitching at his sides, and Spongebob giggles, sitting back up. “Hey, don't be nervous, Squidward,” he says, scooting forward to reach over and take his hand. “We won't do anything you don't want to.”

Spongebob pulls his hand, gently, and Squid steps over, continuing to avoid eye contact as he crawls onto the bed. He sits, his legs hanging off it, and Spongebob scoots over.

He puts his chin on Squidward's shoulder, and Squid finally looks at him. Spongebob smiles.

“You always get so jumpy,” he says, a simple observation. Squidward wants to--he doesn't know what he wants to do. Habit tells him to protest, but it's true, isn't it? And part of him, deep down inside, wants to wrap Sponge in his arms and apologize tell him it's not his fault and he feels more safe around him than anyone he's known in years and--

Well, in any case, he'd be caught dead before that ever came out of his mouth.

“And?” he says, instead.

Spongebob shrugs, a small and exaggeratedly innocent motion as he hums an _I dunno._ Squidward frowns, but Sponge just stretches up and kisses him, brief and gentle and chaste. Like he's something fragile.

He can’t really argue with that, either. He returns the kiss, and Spongebob smiles, sitting up and scooting to the middle of the bed. He tugs on Squidward's sleeve, so he reluctantly follows, dragging himself backwards and crossing his legs.

Before he can get settled, Spongebob invites himself over and straddles him, making himself at home. Squidward bristles, suddenly confronted with the impeccably tied knot around Spongebob's neck. His gaze wanders...downwards, relieved to not make eye contact and content in following the lines of those suspenders along his torso and--

Spongebob takes his face in his hands and tilts it upwards which is...a little intrusive and more forceful than he was expecting and _way hotter than it has any right to be_ , and when Spongebob kisses him, drawing him into it, his limbs turn to gelatin and it's all he can do to clutch at the front of Sponge’s shirt and pretend like that keening whimper hadn't just happened.

_Fuck, he was wants this so bad._

Spongebob draws his bottom lip between his teeth, and Squidward makes use of those suspenders and pulls him closer, his hands now taking that trip that his eyes hadn't been able to complete, trailing down those straps and laying flat against his thighs, sliding a thumb along the inner seam of his pants. Down, and then up again, slowly--

Sponge rolls his hips forward, breath hot against Squidward's mouth, and Squid takes the encouragement and presses his palm between Spongebob’s legs, rubbing--

Wait, what.

He leans back, eyes wide, and looks down, as if Spongebob’s fully clothed body would provide any answers. There is something distinctly _missing_ there, or at least not what he was expecting. But also, he hadn't realized how much he'd mussed up Sponge’s usually impeccable outfit, suspenders askew and shirt coming untucked, and he's just--really horny and really confused and isn't sure what to do with either of those things right now.

Spongebob giggles, draping his arms over Squidward's shoulders. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “I don't, um...”

Squid looks up at him, unable to hide his shock, and Spongebob looks away, usually confident smile wavering for just a moment. But then it's back, if just a little bashful. “I don't have a dick.”

Squidward stares at him. There are about a million questions to ask here, but for some reason the one that comes out is: “Why?”

He's never been more relieved to be laughed at. That could have gone very badly, but Spongebob apparently thinks it's funny, and watching him giggle about it calms some of that initial surprise.

“I dunno!” He says, easily. “Everyone thought I was a girl when I was born though, and then puberty hit and--well, that was a shock!”

Squidward nods, slowly, suddenly becoming aware of his hands hovering awkwardly between them, and places them, tentatively, on Sponge's waist. “So, you. Um.” He glances down, though quickly back up when he realizes he's done so. “What... _do_ you have?” Which, he realizes, might be a stupid question, and it's likely he's going to have some pretty intimate experience with that soon anyways--

Oh, shit, what is he supposed to do with that?

“It's sort of...”

 _Why is it_ sort _of anything??_

Spongebob presses his palms together, slightly bent outwards at the knuckles, and considers the shape--then frowns, bending his fingers inwards. He pauses, and then hums, abandoning the gestures. Then, with a sense of finality, he sticks a pinkie up, meeting Squidward's eyes as he does so.

Squidward stares at that pinkie.

Spongebob wiggles it, grinning, and Squid flushes.

“Anyways,” Sponge says, “you can't really...um...” he shrugs, something mischievous and maybe shy in his smile as he glances away for a moment. “In any case, I _do_ have a prostate, and I've been thinking about your fingers for a _very_ long time.”

He flutters his eyelashes, and Squidward isn't sure he's breathing.

So he--but he--and...

“...what do you say?” Spongebob asks, as Squid attempts to process what he just said. Both of the things he just said. Or--all of it. Everything.

But the slight note of hesitance in Sponge’s voice snaps him out of it. “I--uh--well,” he stammers, racing to find anything to say that will make Spongebob feel-- _not_ however he feels right now--“My...my fingers?”

“Mm _hm_ ,” he goes, smile widening as he looks down at them, taking one of Squid’s hands and rubbing his thumb against the palm of it--and then upwards, along his middle finger.

Squidward swallows thickly, watching this motion with particular interest. “What...about them?”

“They're gor~geous,” he says, sweetly, pulling that hand closer and pressing a kiss to his palm. “And I want them inside me.”

Right, okay, confusion over. He takes his hand back only to immediately return it to Spongebob's face, pulling him down into a kiss which is eagerly returned, until Sponge wiggles away, crawling over to his bed stand and digging through a drawer, discarding--a few various objects-- _oh_ , before sitting up and tossing something to him.

He catches it reflexively, though fumbling a bit, as Spongebob flops back onto the bed, wiggling around to get comfortable.

It's a packet of lube. Right, okay, good--though his initial assumptions about Spongebob's sex life are very quickly being thrown into question.

He looks over at Spongebob, who then proceeds to unclip his suspenders, letting them recoil up to his shoulders.

Squidward's heart leaps into his throat, and he scrambles over, leaning down for a brief moment to kiss him before looking him over and trying to ignore his anxiety at such an...open-ended question. He takes a breath, and slides a hand under Sponge’s shirt, untucking the last remnants of the shirt tails still clinging to his waistband. His skin is soft, and his eyes flutter closed as Squidward takes his time, dragging his fingers along his stomach, brushing against his side--

Spongebob giggles, squirming away from his hand and sighing, pleased, when he escapes it.

He's so _cute_ , and Squidward can hardly believe this is happening. He sits to the side and undoes Spongebob’s pants, pulling them off, Sponge shifting as needed to assist, and drops them on the floor.

Now, it's not as if he hasn't seen Spongebob wandering around in his underwear before--it happens uncomfortably often--but this is...different. Sponge laying in front of him, flushed and disheveled, legs falling open-- _yeah,_ it's really, really different.

Squidward runs a hand along his thigh, ignoring the tremor in his grip, and pulls off Sponge’s briefs, glancing up to meet his eyes. His half-lidded eyes, and the bottom lip he pulls between his teeth.

His breath catches, emotions and base urges tangling together in his brain. “You're--” he says, and then swallows the word _beautiful_. “Have--h--have you done this before?” he asks instead, trying to distract himself from the reality of opening that packet and smearing a generous amount of lube over a finger or...two. He shifts, placing himself between Spongebob's legs.

“Just by myself,” he responds, a teasing, musical tone in his voice as if he knows exactly what image that conjured in Squidward's mind, of Spongebob alone in his room, panting, reaching behind himself and thinking about--

 _This_ , probably? This very thing that's happening, right now?

He presses his index finger to Sponge’s entrance, eliciting a kind of surprised squeak before he relaxes, a smile drifting onto his face. Squidward slides the tip of his finger in, slowly, watching Sponge’s face as he does for any hint of discomfort.

Instead, he looks down at him, that smile widening. “Have _you_ done this before?”

He flushes, not sure he can handle a conversation right now--and then more when he realizes that, in this particular case, the answer is _no_.

“Just, uh...” he’s in to his second knuckle now, and struggling to figure out where to look to avoid eye contact. “T--to myself.”

“Hhmmm,” Sponge goes, mind perhaps somewhere else. He lays his head back, closing his eyes--and Squidward curls his finger inwards, looking for that spot. Spongebob squirms slightly against the sensation, Squidward dragging his finger down until--

Sponge yelps, tensing, and Squidward's heart leaps into his throat, surprised and _thrilled_. “Are you...”

Spongebob takes a breath, relaxing again. “Too much,” he breathes. “Be gentle...”

Squid nods, slowly, and presses against that spot again, just enough for Sponge to whimper, curling his toes.

“Better?” he asks, surprised at the weakness--the _softness_ \--of his voice, his world narrowing to just Spongebob underneath him, mouth hanging open and breath growing heavier.

“M-mm,” Sponge assures him. Squidward slides his finger out, and then back in again, making sure he's lose enough before applying more lube and testing a second finger, slowly, though the slight roll of Sponge’s hips seems to be encouraging him.

He’s more delicate this time in drawing that whimper out of him, Spongebob’s hands clutching at his sheets. He lets out a breath, a sigh that becomes an airy laugh.

“This feels,” he says, smile wide and spacey, “even better than I thought it would.”

A wave of heat washes through Squidward, raising the very real possibility that he might come just from watching Spongebob like this, which--he swallows his embarrassment at the idea, and leans down to press a kiss to Spongebob’s thigh--which feels _cold_ in comparison to the heat radiating off his own face. He takes a breath, and moves upwards, motions slow as he splits his already straining attention between this trail of kisses and the fingers curling inside Spongebob, wanting nothing more than to let himself stop and listen to the whimpers and moans filling the quiet room.

He reaches the top of his thigh, nose brushing against his hip--Spongebob’s breath catching and a tremble running through his legs. Squidward looks up and is met with Spongebob gazing down at him, eyes fixed and mouth parted in silent anticipation.

Utilizing the boldness that could only ever come from being _painfully_ aroused, he ducks down and licks that ambiguous hand gesture between Spongebob's legs.

“ _Ah--!_ ”

Sponge arches up, thighs coming together to clamp around Squidward's head. “ _Oh, fuck,_ ” he gasps, voice trembling.

A shiver shoots right down Squid’s spine, fingers twitching and pulling another gasp out of Spongebob. He glances up, as much as he can, watching as Sponge relaxes and releases him, slowly, breath coming heavy. “Keep--keep going?” he pleads, and for a reaction like that, Squidward is more than happy to comply.

He puts his mouth back on him, feeling his way around a little cluelessly--but if Spongebob's gasping and squirming is any indication, he doesn't particularly mind.

Squidward finds some semblance of a rhythm, and Spongebob’s hand finds its place in his hair, consciously or not tugging at his scalp in time. On some other day he would probably be irritated at the mess being made of his hair, but...he finds himself otherwise occupied.

That is, until Spongebob’s grip tightens a little too much, and Squidward lifts his head up, startled at his own _pleased_ gasp in response to the pain. But that thought quickly leaves his brain, too transfixed by the sight beneath him; Spongebob’s head thrown back, eyes shut, mouth open in a silent cry. He arches his back, a sound that's more like a sob escaping him--and then collapses, going limp, chest heaving with heavy breaths, each exhale punctuated with a quiet whimper.

His eyes slowly drift open, and Squidward sits up, still not feeling in complete control of his limbs. Or brain. Fuck, Spongebob is beautiful. He might be in love.

Or really, really horny.

Sponge reaches up, at length, and takes Squidward’s collar, pulling him down to kiss him, languid and wholly not matching Squidward's current sense of urgency. But he soon pulls him down onto the bed and slides his hand down to unfasten his pants, fumbling with them for a moment before slipping past his waistband and taking hold of him. Squid holds back his gasp, surprised at the contact and trying his best not to lose control at just being touched.

Spongebob hums, a smile finding its way to his face between kisses. “Are you alright?”

“Mm,” he goes, as Sponge finds his grip. “I-- _ah_ \--yeah.”

He runs his thumb over Squid’s head, motions firm and confident. Squidward closes his eyes, focusing on breathing and not giving in to the sensation.

Sponge nuzzles their noses together, grinning. “Do you want to fuck me next time?”

Squidward’s eyes fly open again, meeting Spongebob's lidded gaze. A buzz stirs at the back of his neck that he's not sure how to identify. But it feels a little bit like--apprehension, which is quite a feat when the rest of his brain is so wholly occupied. Sponge kisses him again, and then trails down his jawbone and neck, hand finding a steady pace. “Do you...want me to fuck _you_ next time?”

That does it. The jolt at that idea ricochets up his spine and he gasps, clutching at Spongebob as he spills over his hand, that unbearable buzz finally giving in to a calmness settling over him.

He stares blankly at his hands clutching Spongebob's shirt as he drifts back down, unfortunately returning to the abject embarrassment of what had just happened.

He doesn't _want_ to look Spongebob in the eye after that, but somehow he can't stop himself from glancing upwards, even as the heat slowly returns to his face.

Sponge’s eyes are wide with an alert interest, and his surprise slowly gives way to a smile, though he makes some token attempt to prevent it by biting his lip.

It doesn't help. He giggles, and scoots forward to kiss Squidward, briefly. “That sounds kind of like a _yes_ ,” he whispers, and saves Squidward the indignity of acknowledging the accuracy of that statement by rolling away and jumping out of bed, digging around in that mysterious nightstand of his and producing a package of wet wipes. Squidward sits up to watch him, not quite relaxed enough to continue laying there.

Spongebob cleans his hand off, and then hops back up onto the bed, taking Squidward’s hand and giving it the same treatment. Though there's a certain attention he pays to this, sliding along each of his fingers and pressing against his nails.

Something stirs in Squid’s chest. Something he refuses to assign any flowery words to.

Once Spongebob is done with this, he yawns, stretching luxuriously as he does, and then flops backwards onto the bed, settling in. “You should stay.”

Squidward blinks. “Huh?”

“Aren't you sleee~eepy?” he croons. “Let's take a nap.”

 _Is_ he tired? Well, yes, he is--but also anxious and sticky and a little keyed up at the fact that Spongebob is lounging around in nothing but a disheveled shirt and _socks_ and Squidward is dealing with the fact that he still has a crystal-clear memory of pressing kisses to those velvet-soft thighs.

He blinks, and then huffs, finding a scowl much harder to come by than usual. “Well I'm not sleeping in _this_.”

Spongebob looks over him, curiously, his gaze settling on his legs as he turns something over in his head. Then he gets up and goes over to his closet, opening it and rifling through a curious assortment of fabric, flashes of color and texture appearing as he does so, before sticking his arm in and pulling out something blue. It's a nightgown, plain enough, and Spongebob holds it up to himself, checking the fit. It looks a little long on him, which he seems pleased with. He comes back and hands it to Squidward before flopping back onto the bed, sighing as he presses his face into a pillow.

Squidward stares at him, clutching the nightgown in his hands. He's not entirely sure what to do with this--obviously, put it on, but...

Spongebob doesn't move. He may as well have fallen asleep the moment he hit the bed.

So it probably doesn't matter.

He huffs, and gets up, going to Spongebob's bathroom to change. He folds his clothes as he strips them off, and pulls the nightgown over his head. It's soft, and a little too short and a little too wide, and he’s curious to know why Spongebob has this in the first place.

He looks in the mirror, and freezes.

His hair is a mess. His lips are red, along with the marks trailing down his neck and disappearing under the loose collar of the gown. He can't help but replay the moments that brought him here--Spongebob’s fingers curling in his hair, his mouth against his neck--

His half-lidded eyes, face pink and smile hazy.

His nose against his, giggling, leaning up to kiss him when Squidward was too scared to make the first move himself.

Squid’s skin is...tingling, and a smile pulls at the edge of his mouth. He--he’s...

He covers his face and laughs into his hands, tapping his feet against the floor as a surge of energy rushes through him, sending his heart aflutter. Spongebob is _adorable_ and--

And...he can't go out like this. He flushes, suddenly embarrassed by his enthusiasm, and shakes his hands out, trying to get rid of the energy even as that smile is still stubbornly plastered to his face. _Okay, Squiddy. Get it together_.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself and pushing that giddiness away, flattening it into something a little more...ignorable, before stepping out of the bathroom. He eyes Spongebob carefully. He's curled up on his side now, facing away from him. Squid walks over, quiet, and places his neatly folded pile of laundry on top of his shoes before crawling up into the bed, doing his best not to jostle Spongebob.

He faces away from him, tucking a hand under his head. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep with this _feeling_ stirring around inside of him, but the moment he closes his eyes he realizes how tired he is. And how much he's put at ease by being in Spongebob’s bed, with his cheap, worn sheets, and the pillowcase covered in his scent. Squidward turns just slightly to press his face into it, taking a very coincidental breath.

Spongebob shifts behind him, and then he's pressed up against Squidward's back, one arm curled up between them and the other draped over Squid's waist. He nuzzles between his shoulder blades.

“You should come over more often,” he mutters, believably half asleep.

Heat crawls up Squidward's neck, but...he finds, incredibly, that he's more flattered at the idea than embarrassed.

“Hmph,” he goes.

Maybe he should.


End file.
